Trial and Error
by CaliAsh
Summary: What would happen if a CSI was a prime suspect in a sticky murder? Can Catherine prove his innocence? And will Sara ever give up?
1. Default Chapter

Trial and Error

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            Catherine smiled to herself as she passed the window to her supervisor's office, she couldn't help it.  Grissom wasn't immersed in his tarantula tanks, as he usually was when not working a case.  Instead he had his head on his desk and was quite clearly asleep.

            Closing the door silently behind her, Catherine thought how strange it was to see Grissom sleeping.  He was always so tireless in his search for the truth, always so in control.  Showing weakness wasn't his style.  And yet, here he was, asleep, when he was supposed to be handing out the night's assignments.

            Crossing the room noiselessly, Catherine hopped onto Grissom's desk.  She sighed.  It seemed a shame to wake him, he looked so peaceful:  all the worries of life just melted off him.  Besides she was enjoying the feeling that watching the soft rise and fall of his back had aroused.

            It was with some reluctance that she leant over and shook him roughly by the shoulder.  She couldn't help the small laugh that escaped as Grissom sat up suddenly, blinking his tiredness away and taking in the situation.  The look on his face was priceless.

            Grissom awoke suddenly to a rough touch and annoyance swept through him.  The wave subsided, however, when he realised who it was who had roused him and noticed the soft smile on Catherine's lips.  Readjusting his glasses, he attempted to return the smile but couldn't prevent the yawn that replaced it.

            'Rough day?'

            Grissom nodded.  'I was catching up with an old friend.'

            'Must have been some talk.'

            'We had a lot to discuss.  I haven't seen her since high school.'  Grissom nearly missed the fleeting disappointment that crossed Catherine's face and couldn't stop the thought that popped into his head; did she feel the same?  He tried to push it out of his mind but the way Catherine was perched on his desk was making his temperature rocket.

            'She was your friend?  Why so rough then?'

            'She still hasn't forgiven me.'  Grissom was deliberately evasive; he didn't want Catherine to know that he had met up with an ex-girlfriend.

            'For what?'  Asked Catherine, placing a hand on the desk and leaning closer to her supervisor.

            Grissom tried desperately to look indifferent to her movement, but he could feel the beads of sweat forming on his forehead.  He found it suddenly difficult to breath as his chest tightened and the low-cut blouse that Catherine had donned wasn't helping.  Forcing himself to keep his gaze on her face, Grissom realised he was expected to answer.

            'I didn't have much time for dating back then.'  Oh dear, had he said that out loud?  He hadn't meant to say that, it had just slipped out.  Strange, the effect this woman had on him, that she could distract him so much that he would say something without meaning to.  He could let anything slip.

            'You mean you stood her up.'  Catherine laughed softly.

            Grissom couldn't see the humour in it but the laugh sent a pleasant shiver down his spine.  He had always thought Catherine had a beautiful smile; there was something special about it, especially when it was directed at him.  It was great to see her smiling again, it had pained him to see her so downhearted over her problems at home.  She deserved better, she always had. . .

            'Grissom?'

            Jolted from his thoughts, Grissom found that the gentle laugh had been replaced by a concerned frown.

            'Grissom, did you hear what I said?  The operation did work, didn't it?'

            'Yes, I was just thinking.'  His cheeks felt warm; she was concerned about him.

            'About what?'

            'Nothing in particular.'  He dismissed the subject and leant back in his chair, trying to act normal.  'What did you say?'

            'I asked if it was she who gave you that bruise.'  Catherine pointed at Grissom's jaw.

            Automatically Grissom raised his hand and winced as his fingers brushed the discoloured skin.  He smiled shyly.  'I'd forgotten her quick temper.'

            'And her quick hand by the looks of it.'

            'Its nothing.'  Grissom knew he was being stubborn, but he didn't want Catherine to worry about him; he wanted another emotion.  He gave her a reassuring smile but she didn't seem convinced.

            However any reply she could have made was lost as the door opened and Warrick stuck his head in.  Grissom fought to stop his embarrassment at being caught like this with Catherine showing.  Warrick, it appeared, didn't see anything wrong with the situation.

            'Yo boss, you gonna hand out the cases?'

            'I'll be right there.'

            Warrick nodded, retracted his head and closed the door again.  Grissom looked back at Catherine, who still wore a slight frown.

            'Shall we?'  He gestured to the door.

            Catherine eyed him suspiciously but gaze also held a hint of worry.  Their gazes locked for a few seconds, then she shrugged and jumped from the desk.

            Grissom sighed as he watched her leave.  Was it relief that this sticky situation was over?  Or was it disappointment that nothing had come out of it?


	2. The find

            Taking a deep breath, Grissom pushed open the door and walked into the graveyard shift's conference room.  He kept his head bowed to give the impression that he was engrossed in the assignment cards.  Looking up, he stopped.  As usual all eyes were on him, but this time there was something different about his team's gazes.  Had Warrick told them?  No, he dismissed the thought.  Looking back at the cards he could still feel their eyes on him.

            'What you got for us, Gris?'

            Glad for Warrick's prompt, Grissom set about assigning the cases, there were three tonight.

            'Warrick, Nick, suspicious suicide of a police cadet.'  He handed Warrick a card.

            'Right boss.'  Nick read the card over Warrick's shoulder and the pair left.

            'Sara, dead body in a motel room.'  As he handed over the card he avoided the woman's eyes.  Why had she suddenly made a move on him?  They were friends, that was all, and they would never be any more.

            Sara perused the card quickly and looked back at Grissom.  'How d'you get that?'  She asked indicating to his bruise.

            Why couldn't she just leave?  Grissom didn't feel comfortable talking to her any more.  He forced a smile.  'A friend with a short fuse.'  He turned away preventing her asking more questions.  He could feel her standing there and prayed she would leave.

            He headed over to the remaining team member.  'Catherine, you're with me,' the door clicked softly closed behind him and Grissom let out a silent sigh of relief.  'A Jane Doe found stabbed in the park . . .'

            As Catherine picked her way through the dense shrubbery after her supervisor, she still felt slightly annoyed with Sara.  Why did she think it was she who had attacked Grissom?  She had seen the accusation in Sara's eyes, in the way she had looked at her in the conference room.  Grissom hadn't seen, he had had his back to Sara at the time.  She wouldn't hurt him that was the last thing on her mind.

            Her foot caught on an exposed root and suddenly Catherine found herself stumbling forward.  Strong hands caught and steadied her.  Looking up, Catherine fell into Grissom's wonderfully blue eyes and it was all she could do to stop herself leaning forward and kissing him.  She wasn't sure how he would react but there was something in his eyes that suggested he wouldn't mind.

            'Are you okay?'  Genuine concern coloured Grissom's voice.

            Not trusting herself to speak, Catherine could only nod.  The smile that flashed across Grissom's lips was encouraging but Catherine couldn't help feeling the loss as he removed his hands from her arm and waist.

            As Grissom made his way deeper into the shrubbery, Catherine was left to deal with her intertwining feelings of surprise and joy.  Had she really seen that?  Something in his deep blue eyes that she had never witnessed before.  The longing . . . 

            'Okay, what've we got?'

            The crouched figure by the sprawled body stood up and turned to greet the two CSIs.  Captain Brass looked as grave as ever but he couldn't resist the opportunity to crack a joke.

            'Well Gil, we have a dead body.'

            'I know that.'  Grissom smiled wryly

            Brass shrugged.  'White female' He began to reel off details as Grissom and Catherine walked around him to inspect the body.  'Probably in her thirties, no identification on her, time of death approximately –'

            'Oh no, Anna!'

            Not used to interruptions, Brass wheeled around and registered the shock on Grissom's face.  'You knew the victim?'

            Grissom continued to look at the lifeless woman but directed his answer at Catherine.  'This is the old friend I met this afternoon.'

            'When was that?'

            'I left her around five-thirty, why?'  Grissom looked up at Brass.

            'Coroner placed the time of death between five and six.'  He returned Grissom's look and added,  'Of course, we can get a more precise time after the autopsy.'

            'Grissom.'  Catherine's voice was soft and caused Grissom to shift his gaze immediately.  'We have to process the scene.'

            Grissom nodded and slowly got to his feet.  Reaching out for his case, he felt a hand on his shoulder and heard Brass' voice in his ear.

            'I think you should sit this one out, Gil.  I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to come with me.'

            Grissom looked over at Catherine.

            'Don't worry,'  She said reassuringly  'The evidence will free you and you'll be back on the case in no time.'  She felt confident of this and even managed a smile to lift his spirits.

            However, as she watched her supervisor being led away, a horrible sinking feeling enveloped her.  Her job had never seemed so important.


	3. Trouble

            'What can you tell me?'  Catherine marched into the morgue, she was in a hurry.  Greg would have finished his analysis by now and she was eager to get the results.

            'Oh, hey Catherine.'  The coroner greeted her and hobbled over to the nearest autopsy table.  He pulled down the white sheet to reveal the dead woman's face.  'Single stab wound to the chest, sliced the heart right in two.  The killer knew what he was doing.  The victim would have bled out, no defensive wounds on the forearms.'

            'She knew her killer.'  Catherine studied the dead body.

            'Most likely.'

            'And it was personal; she was stabbed in the heart.'

            The coroner nodded.  'No other wounds, she was in perfect health . . .'  His voice trailed off and Catherine knew what was coming.  'I hear Grissom had contact with the victim shortly before her death.'

            'He did.  Do you have a more precise time of death?'  She didn't want to discuss Grissom's situation at the moment.

            'I can't give you an exact time because she would have bled out for a while before finally dying; the death wasn't instantaneous.  But it could have been any time between five-twenty and ten-to-six.'

            Catherine was about to say something when her eyes were drawn to a pale stripe of skin on the woman's wrist.  'She wore a watch?'  She asked, pointing it out.

            'Yes, it appears she did.  There wasn't a watch on the body when it came in; infact there was nothing of any value on her.  She may have been mugged, either before or after.'

            Catherine nodded.  'Thanks, keep me posted.'

            'Can do, Catherine.'  As Catherine exited, the coroner was left slightly perturbed.  There had been something different, something more wooden about Catherine's behaviour.

            Catherine almost ran down the corridors leading to the crime lab.  The autopsy had neither proved nor disproved Grissom's innocence, it was up to the material evidence now.

            Shoving the door open, her heart began to beat faster.  A spiky-haired lab technician looked in her direction and his eyes told her something was wrong.

            When she reached him, Greg stepped back and indicated to the microscope he had been bent over.  Taking his place, Catherine brushed her hair off her face and placed an eye to the lens.  After fiddling with the dial a single strand of a blue fibre came into focus.  She straightened up and looked inquiringly at Greg.

            'That,'  Greg announced pointing at the microscope,  'is 100% pure cotton.'

            'So?'  Catherine held out her arms and shrugged.

            'So'  Greg mirrored her movements  'Who do we know who wears pure cotton?'

            Catherine remained silent unwilling to admit the fact.  Reaching behind him, Greg grabbed a printout and passed it to Catherine.

            'I compared the fibre with a sample taken from the shirt Grissom was wearing, and . . .'

            'A perfect match.'  Catherine finished.  She stared at the printout for a while longer, as though expecting it to solve the case for her, then looked up at Greg.  'And the hairs?'

            Greg reached for another printout and handed it to her.  'Grissom's also.'

            'This can't be right.'

            'Well you know what Grissom always says; the evidence-'

            'Doesn't lie, I know.  But . . . '  Catherine let her voice trail off as she continued to stare at the printouts in her hands.  It just didn't add up.

            Catherine collapsed into a chair and let out a tormented sigh.  It had been a long night but she couldn't bring herself to go home.  She had no fear for Lindsey, she was staying with a friend from school, but she feared for Grissom.

            Proving her supervisor's innocence was not going well; so far all the evidence convicted him.  His DNA was on the victim as well as fibres from his shirt.  He'd had the opportunity, he knew the victim personally and now he even had the method.  A bloodstained knife had turned up during a routine search of his townhouse, the blood matched the victim's but there wasn't a single fingerprint on it.  All that was missing was the motive.

            But two facts bothered her:  the victim's lack of valuables and identification; and the location in which the knife had been found.  Why would a seasoned CSI keep the murder weapon and not even bother to clean it?  Further more, why would he wrap it in brown paper and hide it amongst that morning's unopened post?

            She sighed again, but this time it was more desperate.  Grissom wasn't a murderer but how could she prove it?  There had to be something she'd missed.

            Catherine's train of thought was broken when she heard the soft click of the door closing behind her.  Swivelling in her chair, Catherine smiled as she saw Sara.  But the other woman did not return the gesture.

            'I want this case, Catherine.'  She said sternly.

            'What?'  Sara's brashness had taken her by surprise.  'You can't.'

            'I have to have it.'  There was no plea in her voice and her tone was definite.

            'Why?  I started this case and I'm going to finish it'

            'You don't understand, I have to help Grissom –'

            'That's what I'm doing.'  Catherine cut in.  What did Sara expect?  That she would be glad to hand over the burden?  She wasn't about to let the case go, not without a fight.  Her muscles tensed, she didn't like Sara's tone.  It was too cool, too calm.

            'You're not fit to help him.'  Sara didn't shout but the anger and resentment was clear.

            'What?!'  Catherine jumped to her feet, partly out of anger but also because she was shocked.  She thought she knew Sara and this wasn't like her.

            Something flashed in Sara's eyes but she remained calm and collected.  'You're not fit to work this case!  What had he done to you?  Why did you have to hurt him?'

            'Hey!  What happened to innocent until proven guilty?'

            But Sara wasn't listening; she was starting to heat up.  'You hit him!  And now you're trying to help him!'

            'He's my friend –' Catherine tried to reason but was cut off.

            Sara's eyes blazed.  'Friend!  I'd hate to see what you do to your enemies!'  She began to advance on Catherine, arms raised.  'You just couldn't leave well alone could you?'

            Shock gripped Catherine, she'd never seen Sara act like this before.  Why was she so defensive of Grissom?


	4. Interrogation

            A flash of movement caused Nick to look up from the evidence bag he had been about to open.

            'Warrick' He called to the man behind him.

            'Yeah?'  Warrick didn't move his gaze from the computer screen he was watching, he had just got a match.

            'Cat fight'

            Now Warrick turned.  He followed Nick's gaze and saw the two figures staring daggers at each other.  He stood just behind Nick and crossed his arms, watching intently.

            'Can you lip read?'  Nick's face bore a confused stare as he tried to follow the dialogue.

            'No'  Warrick frowned.  'But you don't need to be able to.  It's obvious what they're arguing about.'

            Nick turned to the other man.  'So?'

            Warrick gave a small sigh and took a step forward.  'Sara,' he began his commentary, still not taking his eyes off the women.  'Wants Grissom's case but Catherine wont let it go.'

            'Whoa, hold on.'  Nick stood up, not liking to be so much shorter than his friend.  'Grissom's case?'

            'Man, where have you been?'  Warrick turned to the other man and laid a hand on his shoulder.  'Grissom is the prime suspect in a murder.'

            'What?!'  Nick couldn't prevent the exclamation, his shock was too great.  'Grissom?  Murder?  No!'

            'That's what I thought,' said Warrick bowing his head.

            Nick stared open-mouthed for a few seconds then shook his head and sat back down, the fight temporarily forgotten.  He picked up the unopened evidence bag and passed it between his hands.

            'If I wasn't working this case . . . '  He dropped the bag into a box at his feet.

            'Catherine would still be working that one.  It wouldn't make any difference, Nick.'  Warrick turned his head back to the fight.  'You know how stubborn Catherine can be.'

            Nick smiled, he knew only too well.  He too turned to watch the fight again.  'Hey, shouldn't we intervene, it could get rough? Two headstrong women 'n' all.'

            Warrick was about to reply in the negative, to say they could sort it out themselves, when a fist shot forward and the cry it produced reached their ears through several panes of glass.

            'Maybe we should.' He said instead, striding over to the door with Nick hot at his heels.

            Catherine stepped backwards and narrowly avoided another flying fist.  She made to go forward again but found something was restraining her.  Hands tightened on her upper arms and, recognising her captor, she stopped fighting against his hold but kept her muscles tensed.  

            A young man stepped out in front of her, shielding her from another onslaught.  Nick grabbed Sara's arm and stared her out.  Sara dropped her gaze but kept her fists clenched and muttered a curse under her breath.  She pulled her wrist out of Nick's grip, turned on her heels and began marching away.

            Catherine struggled against Warrick's hold but couldn't break it.  Giving up she made sure Sara heard her before she disappeared around the corner.

            'I didn't touch him!'

            Feeling her muscles relax, Warrick released Catherine, who sank into the chair once again.

            'What was that all about, Catherine?'  Warrick's voice carried notes of concern and yet still held a hint of a demand.

            'She wants Grissom's case,'  Warrick cast Nick an I-told-you-so look  'and she thinks I gave Grissom his bruise.'

            'What bruise?'

            Warrick laughed softly  'Nick, what planet have you been on today?'

            Nick opened his mouth to reply but the door opening cut him off.

            'Catherine'  Brass strode into the room completely unaware of what he had just missed.  'You coming, I'm about to interrogate Grissom?'

            'If you don't mind, I think I'll just watch.'

            Brass nodded and held the door for Catherine.

            'Can I come?'  Nick made for the door as well but Warrick held him back.

            'We have our own case, Nick, remember?'

            'Okay Gil, you know the procedure by now.'  Captain Brass seated himself opposite the CSI.  'Now you're not going to be difficult and demand to see your lawyer, are you?'

            Grissom smiled  'I was expecting Catherine.'

            'Oh, she's here.'  Brass indicated to the two-way mirror.

            Grissom looked over at it and tried to pick out a shadow.  He noticed a faint flicker of movement and smiled.  He felt glad that Catherine would at least witness his interrogation; he wanted her to have all the facts first hand.

            'Now I'll try to make this as painless as possible-'

            'Don't baby me, Jim.'

            Brass laughed softly.  'Okay Gil, I'll be serious now.'  He straightened his face and set his usual frown upon it.  'These are serious accusations, are you sure you don't want a lawyer?'

            Grissom shook his head.  'The evidence is my lawyer.'

            Brass nodded solemnly.  'You were with the victim, er, Mrs Anna Turner, around the time of her death?'

            'She was alive when I left her.'

            'I'm sure she was, Gil.  Could you explain this to me?'  Brass placed an evidence bag on the table.

            Grissom picked it up and examined the contents.  'Single-edged blade, found in most kitchens.  Let me guess; murder weapon?'

            'Good guess.  Now where do you think it was found?'

            Grissom remained silent, he didn't like where this was going.  He looked back at the bloodstained knife then over at the mirror.  He imagined Catherine standing behind the tinted glass, arms folded across her stomach, face decked with her professional frown.

            Why wasn't she interrogating him?  The question bored into his mind.  Perhaps she couldn't face him.  Suddenly a cold chill swept through him; maybe she thought he _had_ killed Anna.

            'Grissom' the word shook the CSI  'that knife was found in your house.  It was in the post pile.  Now why would it be there, Gil?'

            'I don't know.  I didn't have time to open the post.'

            Brass nodded gravely.  'I assume you know what these mean.'  He pushed two printouts towards Grissom, who picked them up.

            Grissom cast his eyes over the pieces of paper.  His hopes were steadily sinking; his old ally was turning it's back on him.  He trusted Catherine with his case but if the evidence convicted him there was nothing she could do.  All he could do was pray that she still valued the 'why' as much as the 'how'.

            Turning his head again, Grissom sought the sanctuary of his closest friend's eyes.  All that separated them was a pane of glass and Grissom couldn't help but wonder if he would have to get used to it.


	5. Realisation

            A knock on the door made Catherine jump.  She nearly dropped the tank she was holding.  Replacing it on the shelf, she turned around and smiled as she saw the young man standing by the door.  He looked rather out of place; his white lab coat made a vivid contrast to Grissom's dark office.

            'Hey Greg'  she greeted him.

            He smiled back in acknowledgement.  'What you doing?' he asked.

            Catherine sighed.  'Looking for answers.'

            'Well I don't think you'll find them in Grissom's tarantula tank.'  Greg shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned back against the door.

            Catherine could tell that he was trying to act indifferent but he obviously felt the loss of such a major character as well.  Unable to hold the smile in place any longer she sat down heavily in Grissom's chair.  Grissom's chair in Grissom's office, how empty it felt without his presence. 

            'You should get some rest, Catherine.'

            'No.  I have to see this through.  Grissom wouldn't rest until he had caught the perp-'

            'But you're not Grissom'  A smile crept onto the young lab techs face.  'And you're always telling him to have a break.'

            'I know.'  Catherine said exasperated  'But that's different; I worry about him.'

            Greg's eyebrows raised and Catherine studied his mild reaction.  Had he already guessed?  She suddenly had the overwhelming urge to tell him, to confess all the feelings that she had kept bottled up inside herself.  But could she trust him?

            Catherine put her head on the desk and shut her eyes in a vain attempt to block out reality.  No, she decided, she shouldn't tell Greg.  She really needed to speak to Grissom.

            'Were you looking for me?'  Catherine asked.

            'Actually, I was looking for Sara-'

            Catherine's head shot up.  It was an involuntary movement but it seemed to have a profound effect on the young man.  She hadn't realised he was so close.

            Catching his breath and with a hand on his chest, Greg finished what he was saying.  'She's taken to hanging around here in the last month, when Grissom's not around.  I've got the results form the blood sample she gave me.' He added, as though for safety.

            Catherine frowned.  'She's visiting a witness.' She said somewhat coldly.  She didn't want to hate Sara but she just couldn't help disliking her at the moment.  There was something about the way the younger woman acted around Grissom that got to her.

            'Oh' Greg replaced his hand in his pocket.  'It can wait.'  He turned and reached for the door handle but stopped and looked over his shoulder.  'If you see Grissom tell him we're all routing for him.'  He stayed long enough to see Catherine nod then left her alone with her thoughts.

            Grissom put down his book.  It was no use, he couldn't concentrate.  He was too wound up.  It was frustrating being cooped up all day; he wanted to be out there solving Las Vegas' crimes with his team.  That was his life.  But more than that he was fretting over Catherine.  Did she still believe in him?

            He hoped she did and he wished he could see her but he wasn't supposed to leave his house and he was afraid to put the phone back on its hook.

            Grissom looked up when he heard a knock on the door.  He froze for a moment but decided company would be a welcome distraction, whoever it was.  Opening the door a crack, he smiled.

            'Catherine.'

            'Yeah, who were you expecting?' she said as he stood aside allowing her entry.  'Place looks a little different.'

            Grissom smiled wryly.  'I haven't had time to straighten it up yet.'  He didn't resent the police after all they were only doing their job, but they had left his place in a bit of a mess.

            'I've been trying to get through to you for ages…'

            Grissom saw Catherine's eyes settle on something behind him.  Turning, he saw the phone with its receiver lying on the floor.

            '…And that would be why.'  Catherine finished and looked back at Grissom as if to ask why.

            He shrugged.  'Persistent caller, have a seat'  he invited but Catherine remained standing.

            'Who is it?' she demanded.  'Its not those journalists is it, because-'

            But whatever it was Grissom never discovered; Catherine stopped her rant when there was a series of sharp raps on the door.  Grissom hesitated.  He had a feeling he knew who it was and he wasn't sure he wanted to speak to them.

            'Aren't you going to answer that?'  Catherine was giving him a strange look and he supposed she had never seen him act like this before.

            'Maybe' he answered evasively but made no attempt to move.

            'Grissom!'   A familiar voice floated through the solid wood.  'I know you're in there!  We have to talk!'

            There was something new in Catherine's eyes now, something he hadn't seen for a long time.

            'Sara' she said and he was surprised to hear the ice in her voice.  'She's the persistent caller, isn't she?'

            All Grissom could do was nod.  They stood for a moment then Catherine strode over to the door.  She had her hand on the catch when Grissom pulled her back.

            'Leave it' he whispered urgently.  'She'll go soon.'

            Catherine looked surprised and he didn't blame her.  He led her away from the door and was amazed at how willingly she allowed herself to be drawn deeper into his house.

            'What did she want?'  Catherine asked when they stopped.

            'I have no idea.'  Grissom lied.

            'She's been acting very strange lately.'  Catherine said and continued when Grissom didn't comment.  'She thinks I hit you.'

            Shock caught Grissom.  'Why?'

            'How should I know, but she got her own back.'

            Grissom looked at Catherine, wondering what she could mean.  Then he saw it.  No wonder he had missed it before; the purple tinge on her cheekbone was nearly completely enveloped by the growing shadow around her eyes.

            'She did that to you?'  He only just managed to suppress the urge to reach out for her.  'But you didn't hit me, it was Anna.'

            'I know that and so do you, she doesn't.'

            'I should have said-'

            'It doesn't matter.'  Catherine cut in.  'Why did Anna hit you?'

            The question caught Grissom unprepared.  'She was in a temper and I guess I wasn't helping.'

            'So she struck out?'  Catherine looked troubled.

            Grissom nodded.  'She phoned the day before and we arranged to meet up.  It wasn't the first time.'  He paused.  'I didn't kill her, Catherine.'

            'I know u didn't'

            Grissom felt an immense rush of relief; a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders.  Would she ever realise just how much hearing her say that had meant to him?

            But Catherine didn't look at ease, in fact she looked quite the opposite and she began to pace in front of him. 

            'You didn't kill her, but how can I prove it.  The evidence is all wrong there has to be something I've missed.  I can't let you go down!'

            'Catherine'  Grissom caught her and pulled her closer, stopping her movement.  He heard her sudden intake of breath and realised that all he had to do was lean forward.  But now wasn't the right time, he had to be professional.  'Catherine, you can't become emotionally involved.'

            She remained locked in his gaze for a while longer before exclaiming, 'That's it!'

            She slipped from his hold and bolted out of the room.  Grissom heard the front door slam and stood there with his arms held out.  Had he said something wrong?


	6. Evidence

            Catherine turned over a piece of charred wood with her foot, marvelling at her own blindness.  But she supposed her feelings had blinded her, it had been like that with Eddie once.

            Grissom's words had brought her to her senses.  She had heard them many times before but never had there been such a hidden meaning and never had he said them with less conviction.  But that was beside the point; it had struck a chord and she had suddenly remembered something she should have thought of before.

            With the help of Archie, the visual and audio expert, she had double-checked the video surveillance tapes from the park's cameras.  It all seemed as it had before to start with; Grissom and the victim sauntered into the shot, Grissom had a hand clasped over his jaw and the woman seemed deeply troubled.  She was frantically trying to reconcile with Grissom but he kept brushing her off.  Finally the woman stopped and stood with her hands on her hips whilst Grissom continued walking.  She shouted after him but he just raised his hand in a backward wave and walked on.

            Catherine had to smile as she recognised Grissom's behaviour.  He wasn't on the next tape that they checked because it showed a different part of the park.  It showed the last known movements of the victim and clearly conveyed the rage she was in.  Unfortunately the camera had been badly placed, or else the tree had grown there since the introduction of CCTV to the park.  But whatever the reason the tree was there and it blocked out half of the shot. The victim disappeared under its canopy but never reappeared on the other side and her body had been found less than ten feet from it.

            As the cameras didn't record sound, this was all the footage there was.  Catherine had gained nothing from the second viewing apart from the assurance that Grissom was innocent.  She had speculated the fact that he could have returned via a different route, his motive wasn't strong but she had known people killed for less.  However she had quickly dismissed it in the light that he would have been captured on camera again at some point.  The killer must have been waiting beneath the tree, patiently watching for his chance to strike.  If indeed it was a he, the possibility of a she had not yet been ruled out.

            Archie, being the expert in this field, had spotted something and rewound the first tape.  He watched carefully, scanning the screen with his highly trained eye.  Once he saw it again he froze the frame and pointed out an area in the background bushes.  Catherine could find nothing wrong with it, it looked like a perfectly normal bush to her; it was green and leafy and short of growing an arm and stabbing the victim, she couldn't see the importance of it.

            Archie had then played the tape forward slowly, frame by frame, and slowly it had dawned on Catherine.  She could see the change in the bush's shape and had noticed the flesh coloured blob in its midst.  Archie had known what to do; highlighting the appropriate area he had zoomed in until the pink blur filled the screen and had set about clearing the image.  Under greater clarity the blur began to resemble a face and Catherine was struck with a distant recognition.

            'Did the victim have a stalker?'  Archie had asked when the image had become crystal clear.

            Catherine could answer quite confidently in the negative.  There was no need to cross-reference the still with the database, she already knew who it was.  He had been the second suspect but he had had an alibi.

            However, under further scrutiny, the friend had changed his story and the alibi fell through meaning there was now another suspect.  After that things only got better.  A shoeprint found at the scene, which originally counted against Grissom, now would help to convict the new suspect.  The print had happened to be the same size as the shoes Grissom wore but had not matched any found at his house, suggesting his having dumped them.  This had baffled Catherine at the time; why dispose of the shoes he was wearing but retain the knife?  A trophy?  But Grissom wasn't like that.  Now it appeared that the suspect took the same size shoe and was partial to Rockports, for the print had been made by that make of shoe.

            And so, armed with this new evidence, Catherine had returned to the scene of the crime in the hope of finding something she had missed before, which is exactly what happened.

            Removing a pen from her pocket, Catherine mimicked a movement she had often seen her supervisor do.  Using the pen as a probe she dug into the remains of the fire, sending flakes of ash flying and occasionally overturning the remains of a branch.  Eventually she found something.  Holding it up with the pen, she reached out and pulled it out of the pile of ash.  Turning it over in her hands she inspected it closer.

            It was obviously material.  It was in a terrible state with nearly all the colour lost to the fire but she could just make out a hint of green beneath the soot.  She pulled a brown envelope from another pocket and dropped the material into it.  She would give it to Greg when she got back to the lab.  

            Another check of the pile found a mangled, but still very feminine, gold watch but nothing else.  Catherine stood up and looking to her right saw the tree from the CCTV tape.  It looked greatly dwarfed from this distance.  Closing her eyes she envisioned the night's events.

            He had been waiting for her beneath the tree, hiding under its shelter where he was blocked from the view of the camera.  Before that he had hidden in the bushes from where he had watched Grissom and the victim, probably waiting for his chance with her on his own.  Anyway, under the tree he had greeted her warmly for there was no sign of a struggle and it looked as if she had been led willingly into the shrubbery that grew beyond the tree.  In the camouflage of the shrubs ha had attacked her swiftly and without warning, she may not have known the reason for her death.

            Catherine opened her eyes suddenly; a thought had just hit her.  But it had been so fleeting that it had evaded capture by her memory.  Sighing, she could only hope it would come back to her when she got the results from Greg.

            Packing her camera into the case, Catherine picked it up and headed back to the SUV.  Finally, she thought, things were looking up for Grissom.


	7. Confession

            'Hey, Greg, you got my results?'  Catherine almost skipped into the lab; she was in much better spirits.  The prospect of seeing Grissom freed and given a full pardon had made her feel dizzy with anticipation.

            'Of course, dear Catherine.'  Greg answered in mock innocence, he too seemed happier and Catherine hoped that this was a sign that the results were good.  'They were top of the pile, naturally.'

            Catherine gave him a doubtful look as he rummaged through the papers on his desk until he found the appropriate sheet.

            'Aha!' he cried in triumph holding it aloft before noticing Catherine's outstretched hand and the impatient look on her face.  Handing it over with his usual grin, he could resist no longer.  'I've just cracked the case, haven't I?  Uhhu, who's da man?'

            'I'm sure you're referring to yourself, Greg,' Catherine smiled  'But do you happen to have _my _results?  As interesting as this is, I understood the victim died from a stab wound not an overdose of sodium chloride.'  She smiled sweetly at the young man.  Normally this would have annoyed her but at that moment nothing could dampen her spirits.

            'Ah' Again Greg rummaged on his desk and handed her another printout, smiling just as sweetly back at her.  'What does the General keep up his sleevies?'

            Scanning the page, Catherine immediately saw the logic behind the otherwise absurd question.  'His armies.'  She muttered  'It was army camouflage gear?'

            Greg nodded.  'Standard issue.  And who do you think was a private in the US Army?'

            'Dave Turner.'  Catherine didn't even need his remark of 'Got it in one' to know she was right.  She remembered reading his file when he was first suspected of the murder.  'Next stop Colorado Springs.' She turned to leave.

            'Um, Catherine, that's the air force.'

            'Whatever.'  The door was already closing behind her.

            'Damn!'  Greg cursed as the door clicked shut and, noticing the other lab techs giving him funny looks, he added, 'She got the last word!'

            Catherine looked up as the door in front of her opened.  'Mr. Turner?'

            The man gave a hesitant nod, he seemed anxious.

            'Catherine Willows, I'm working on your wife's case.  We spoke before.'

            Dave twitched nervously.  He completely ignored Catherine's outstretched hand, not taking his fearful eyes off her for one second.  A bemused expression crossed Catherine's face; the man had seemed much more confident on the phone.

            Catherine lowered her hand and turned imploringly to the older man standing behind her.  Brass shrugged and took her place on the doorstep.

            'Mr. Turner, we'd like to ask you a few questions.'

            Immediately Dave's expression brightened.  'Of course, come in.' He stood aside to give them room to enter.

            Dave showed them into a small, cosy front room and invited them to take a seat.  They sat in silence for several seconds.  Catherine studied Dave carefully; watching his behaviour, one false move and she would catch him out.

            Impatient to clear Grissom's name, Catherine spoke first.  'Mr. Turner, where were you on the night of your wife's murder?'

            'I told you before.'  Dave squeaked.

            Clearly he was unwilling to talk to her.  He looked like he was about to faint or throw up, or both.  Catherine turned and threw Brass a look, thus passing him the baton.

            'The thing is, Mr. Turner, your friend, a Mr. Brian, has had a memory lapse.  So where were you?'

            Again Dave looked instantly more at ease and he seemed more willing to talk.

            'Oh, I remember, I was with James the night before.  I was here, at home, all by myself; I'd hired a DVD and I was watching it.'

            'So no one can verify your whereabouts?'

            'No' His reply was abrupt, perhaps too quick.

            'And you weren't with your wife at any point during the evening?'

            Dave didn't even hesitate; he was responding much better to Brass' questioning and Catherine noticed that he seemed to have forgotten she was there.

            'We had supper together but she left soon after.  That was just before five.'

            'Did she say where she was going?'

'No, but she obviously went to the park with that man.  What was his name?'

            'Gil Grissom'

            'That's him.  I hope he gets life for what he did.'

            Catherine bit her tongue, now was not the time to act irrationally; she had to play it cool.  She saw Brass was looking at her as if to say the same.  She faked a small smile, which seemed to give him piece of mind, and then returned to observing Dave's behaviour.  She was starting to dislike the man; there was something about him that just didn't fit.

            'Have you ever met Mr. Grissom?'

            'Yes.  We went to the same high school.'

            Catherine sat up suddenly.  This was news to her, but then Grissom talked very little of his past and she had never pressed him about the subject.

            'We were never in the same class but I knew him; who didn't?  His reputation preceded him.  Bugboy, that's what they used to call him but he never seemed to mind, just carried on studying.  Shocked everybody when he aced science, I can tell you-'

            'Mr. Turner, we're not here to discuss Mr. Grissom, past or present.  Now, you were in the army, weren't you?

            'Briefly.  I didn't make it passed my first year.  They said I didn't have what it took to be a soldier.'

            Brass nodded sympathetically.  'Do you still have your camouflage gear?'

            'Sure, it's in the loft.'

            'Hmm, well we found this along with your wife's watch near where your wife was killed, in the remains of a fire.'  Brass held out a clear evidence bag containing the scrap of dirty green material that Catherine had found earlier.  'We matched it to the material used in producing army gear.'

            'There are plenty of people of people around here who were in the army, it could belong to any of them.'

            That was true of course, but Dave's voice sold him out.  He sounded as if he was trying to convince himself as well as them.  Catherine saw that most of the colour had drained from his face and his eyes bore the lines of a fierce mental fight; perhaps a struggle between his conscience and his sense of self-preservation.  At any rate his conscience seemed to be winning through, maybe they could break him.

            'We are also in possession of a surveillance tape that places you in the same park as your wife shortly before her death.'

            Dave said nothing, his eyes were fearful once more.  He opened and closed his mouth several times but nothing came out, not a sound.

            'Why did you kill your wife, Mr. Turner?'  Catherine could remain silent no longer, besides she hated being ignored.

            Dave looked like he had noticed her for the first time.  The sudden introduction of another voice into the failing conversation made him jump and he knocked a stack of books over, sending them skimming across the varnished floor.  Hastily he bent to pick up the nearest one.

            'I … I didn't.  W-why would I?'  He stammered, avoiding eye contact.

            But Catherine wasn't looking at his face; she had noticed something when he had bent down.  The shirt he was wearing had ridden up just enough to reveal the lower half of his back and for the brief few seconds that it was visible Catherine had counted no less than six patches of discolouration.

            'Mr. Turner, how did you injure your back?'

            Dave made no attempt to speak.  Instead he stood stock still, staring at Catherine and clutching the book to his breast as though it was something precious.

            'Take off your shirt.'  Her voice was harsher than she had planned but she was growing tired of this man.

            Instantly Dave dropped the book and all but tore his shirt off.  Surprised, but none-the-less glad for his sudden compliance, Catherine walked towards him to get a better look.  It became clear why Dave had worn a long-sleeved shirt, fully buttoned, in the height of summer; the bruising Catherine had spied on his lower back was only the tip of the iceberg.  He was practically covered in all shapes and sizes of patches of varying shades of green, blue, purple, and brown.  His torso and arms were a multitude of colours while his face, neck and hands remained a healthy peach.  Catherine sensed foul play and instantly softened.

            'How d'you do that?'  Catherine had taken over the interview again and out of the corner of her eye she saw that Brass was clearly just as shocked as she was about the condition Dave was in.

            'I fell.'  Dave suggested.

            'Must have been some fall.'

            'Down the stairs.'

            'Uh hu, why didn't you bang your head?'

            'I was wearing a helmet.'

            'That was lucky.'  A first day rookie would have seen through his lies.

            Obviously Dave saw that he wasn't convincing her for he collapsed backwards into a chair and put his head in his hands.  He began to shake violently and Catherine looked uncertainly at Brass, unsure of what to do next.

            'I had to,' Dave sobbed through his fingers 'I couldn't take it anymore.'

            'Had to do what?'  Catherine knew the answer but it was necessary to make him confess.

            'I killed her!'  He shouted, looking up  'She crossed the line once too often and I had to put a stop to it.'

            Suddenly it all made sense; the murder, his bruises, why he was afraid of her but not Brass.  His own wife had beaten him!  Catherine knew where she stood with wife beaters but she wasn't so clear about husband beaters, it was rare but she had heard of it before.  

            He could have suffered in silence for years, restrained by the wrath of an abusive wife.  In this case the murderer was the true victim.

            'What did she do?'  Catherine's voice was so soft and full of genuine sympathy that she could actually see his defences crumple.

            Dave took a deep breath to steady his nerves before he began his story, relieved to finally be able to get it off his chest:

            'I met Anna when I was sixteen.  She was the prettiest girl I had ever seen and she was so friendly towards me, I couldn't help but instantly fall for her.  But then I discovered that she already had a boyfriend and, of all the people it could have been, it was Bugboy Grissom.

            'I didn't like the way he treated her, if I hadn't known better I would have thought he was forgetful.  He hardly ever turned up for their dates and when he did he looked as if it was the last place he wanted to be.  Eventually they split up and I was there as a shoulder to cry on.

            'When I was eighteen I left school and joined the army.  It pained me to leave Anna but it had been a life long dream.  Anyway it didn't work out, they said I wasn't made of the right stuff, and I was discharged the following year.  So, making the best of a bad situation, I proposed to Anna and we were married within six months.

            'The first few years were wedded bliss, I couldn't have asked for a more caring wife than Anna.  Then she changed for no apparent reason and things went from good to bad.  She started small; throwing plates, first at walls then at me.  When we lost Daniel, our son, to drugs she got worse, blamed me for it all.

            'Gradually she graduated from threats and verbal abuse to actual physical abuse.  She would lash out for no reason but afterwards she'd be so kind and sorry that I always forgave her instantly.  But the affair was the last straw-'

            'Affair?'  Catherine was finding it easier and easier to empathise with him.

            Dave nodded.  'We only moved here two months ago; I thought a change of location would calm her down but it only made things worse.  She found out that Bugboy lived in the area and contacted him.  They started meeting each other and I wouldn't have minded but she tried to keep it from me so she could only have been up to no good.

            'I wasn't going to stand for that.  She may have beaten and belittled me but she had never lied nor hidden anything from me before.

            'I decided to follow them with, I am sorry to say, the intent to kill one or both, either way Anna had to go.  The whole charade had opened my eyes; I saw what kind of a person she really was and I just couldn't live with her any longer.

'My job as park warden allowed me to find the best possible spot where I knew I would be hidden from the cameras.  I waited for her there and when she came she didn't even see I was there which just made me more determined than ever.  I led her into the bushes for cover and attacked; I wanted her to see my face, to know that it was me, that I had finally gotten back at her.

'I took her purse and jewellery, to make it look like a simple mugging, and burnt them along with the clothes I was wearing.  I thought it would take at least a day to identify her and by that time I could have filed a missing persons report and look like a concerned husband.  I thought my motive would hold because James is a bit forgetful and I had actually been with him the night before.

'What's going to happen to me?  Will I have to go to jail?'

'Oh, I should think so.'  Brass stood up and removed his handcuffs from his belt.  'What's more you owe her boss, now what was it?  Ah yes, Bugboy Grissom, an apology.'

Dave turned to Catherine, wide eyed.  'Your boss?'

Catherine nodded and smiled at Dave's shock.

'I had no idea.  I didn't mean anything by it, I just couldn't live with her any longer.'

He seemed desperate to convince her and Catherine supposed that he was a genuinely nice guy, he had just been mistreated.  Still, that didn't make him any less of a murderer.  

'Yeah, well you should have got a divorce.'


	8. Conclusion

            Grissom couldn't help smiling to himself as he stalked down the familiar corridors past familiar rooms full of familiar faces.  It was good to be back.  Already he had been stopped every few paces by members of his team, and even Greg and Al, saying how good it was to see him back.

            There was one person he wanted to see more than anyone else, but he couldn't find her.  Perhaps she had gone home to have a rest, she had looked like she needed a break last time he had seen her.  But wouldn't she have wanted to be here for his return?

            He sighed.  Still, he would find her eventually, he had to.  Smiling again as he reached his office, Grissom walked into the dim light and cast his eye around.  This was his little piece of home, his sanctuary, his shelter in his hectic and sometimes confusing life.

            He took a step into the room, allowing the door to swing closed behind him, and stopped.  Shock flew over his face but was soon replaced by a wide grin.

            Grissom walked over to his desk as lightly as he could and looked down fondly at Catherine's sleeping form.  He laughed softly, remembering how this had all begun and now the roles were reversed.  Reaching down he tapped Catherine on the shoulder, it was a nuisance to wake her and he would gladly have let her sleep, but he needed to talk to her.

            'Go away'  Catherine said groggily and batted his hand away.

            'Catherine'

            'No, she's in the bar drinking herself silly.'

            Grissom smiled.  'Well, in that case, I might have a drink myself.'

            Catherine looked up and their eyes met.  Grissom saw how tired she looked and regretted waking her.

            'I should have let you sleep.'

            'Don't sweat it' she waved a hand and forced herself to stand up.  'Have a seat,' Grissom hesitated.  'Go on.'

            Reluctantly Grissom sank into the chair.  He had been perfectly happy to stand and let Catherine have the seat.  Looking up at her he saw the weariness etched on every line of her face.

            'You look like you need a rest.'

            'I was resting' she smiled 'Hey, now we're even; I woke you, you woke me.'

            Grissom smiled back but it was only to mask his concern.  Her condition troubled him; if she collapsed from exhaustion now it would all be his fault, she had been working non-stop on his case for the last 36 hours after all.

            'You have the seat.'  He made to stand.

            'No' She pushed him back down with considerable force but Grissom saw the effort it took her.

            He stared at her half in surprise, half with concern.  She attempted to stare him out but failed, having to close her eyes to escape the overwhelming urge to sleep.

            'Okay, okay.'

            Grissom smiled, genuinely this time, but before he could stand he found Catherine seating herself on his lap.

            'Oh, don't look so shocked, Gil.' She said, leaning back against him and closing her eyes.

            The close contact kept him silent for a minute, but the beat of her heart along with his was reassuring and finally he felt as if his question had been answered.

            'So Dave did it after all?'  He would work his way up to the important stuff.

            'Hmm, he thought she was having an affair,'  Catherine paused for effect 'With you.'

            'What?'

            Catherine laughed and Grissom felt the vibrations run right through him.  It was an odd sensation yet strangely soothing.  Little did he know that his exclamation of surprise had laid to rest something that had been nagging Catherine.

'Did you know that Anna was a husband beater?'

            'It had occurred to me once or twice, she certainly had a temper.  Incidentally, she'd never actually hit me until that night.'

            'She definitely got her comeuppance.'

            'Catherine, she was a good woman really-'

            'And Dave was a good man.'

            'So, in all this, who was the real victim?'

            'Personally, I still think the bush did it.'

            'Excuse me?'

            'You'll have to ask Archie.'  Catherine laughed at her little joke and allowed the bittersweet silence to envelop them.  She felt so safe and secure in Grissom's arms that it didn't matter if they talked or not, simply being there, together, was enough.

            'Hey Catherine.'

            'Yeah?'  She could feel the tiredness catching up with her again but she was too blissfully happy to let it overtake her.  She wanted to remember this moment for the rest of her life.

            'Thanks'

            ''S'kay.  You would have done the same … wouldn't you?'

            'Well …'

            'Oy!'  Catherine thumped Grissom playfully on the arm and turned her head to see him laughing.  She smiled as she saw her own feeling reflected in his eyes.  She had seen that once before; when she had been in his house and he had pulled her close.  She had thought he would kiss her but then he had uttered the words that had probably saved him.

            'Y'know this morning?  When I came to your house?'

            'Yeah.'  Grissom drew the word out wondering where it was leading.

            'Why didn't you kiss me?'

            'It wasn't the right time.'  Grissom said coolly 'You were getting hysterical and it might have compromised the case.'

            'Well the case is closed now.'

            Grissom raised an eyebrow at Catherine's suggestive tone but he couldn't stop his heart from fluttering.

            'Yes, it is.'

            'Well?'

            'Well what?'

            'Well kiss me then.'

            He laughed softly and leaned towards her, lightly brushing his lips across hers.  He felt Catherine's arms slide around his neck, drawing him closer still.  Closing his eyes, Grissom allowed himself to be led by the woman he had watched for such a long time.  Having always been forced to watch from the shadows it was such a difference to finally be bathed in the full light of her presence.

            The need for air broke them apart and Catherine laid her head on Grissom's shoulder.  There was silence for a while, then:

            'What did Sara want?'

            Grissom flinched, but he didn't want to spoil the moment so he decided to play the truth card and hoped that Catherine would drop the subject.

            'Me.'

            'Duh!  But what did she want with you?'

            'What you just got probably.  I can't read minds, you know.'

            'Hmm.  I kind of guessed as much.  What are you going to do about it?'

            'Nothing.'

            'You can't just ignore it, Gil.  Her feelings for you aren't just going to disappear and I don't want to be constantly under attack.'

            'I know, I'll think of something.  Let it rest for now okay?'

            Catherine muttered something that could have been 'okay' but most of it was lost in Grissom's shirt.  Again silence drifted in.  It wasn't an awkward silence nor was it the air of defeat and neither was it for lack of things to say.  Both parties were bursting with questions, wanting to put a stop to those little nagging voices at the back of their minds.  However they couldn't find the will to disturb the others peace and so neither spoke for several minutes.

            Grissom was just beginning to wonder how much longer they could stay like they were before his leg fell asleep, when he heard Catherine sigh.

            'What's wrong, Cath?'

            'I wish we could stay like this forever, but there's this little problem I've got at home.'

            'And what's that?'

            'Well, it's about this tall,' she gestured with her hand 'has blonde hair and usually answers to the name Lindsey.'

            Grissom smiled.  'Don't worry, Cath.  You get some rest I'll take care of Lindsey.'

            Catherine looked at him.  'Thanks, Gil.'  She leaned towards him and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek before lying back against him and smiling again.  'You should have a shave first.'

            Grissom smiled as well, he couldn't help it.  This morning he had awoken with doubt and fear in his heart but now all he felt was the deep and unconditional ache of love.

            Sara looked on, not in disbelief but in despair.  For she had seen this coming but had hoped she could change things.  Now, she knew, he was lost to her.

            She looked down at her CSI ID badge in her hands and sighed.  Then, casting a final glance at them, together, she turned and headed silently to the locker room.

**Note from the author – **I apologise if I made Sara into a cow but she is only human; what would you have done in her shoes.

            Also, technically I killed Anna cos I knew she had been killed and where, why, how, before anyone else.  And When I was writing this I just happened to be wearing my blue blouse that is 100% pure cotton … 


End file.
